


Surprise/Compromise

by MissMaudlin



Category: Galavant (TV)
Genre: Babies, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 23:12:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5888857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMaudlin/pseuds/MissMaudlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Galavant wanted three kids. Isabella wanted seven.</p><p>So, they compromised. (Kind of).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surprise/Compromise

By the time Isabella gave birth to their third child—a third girl, as luck would have it—Galavant courageously attempted to dissuade her from continuing the yearly tradition.

“We don’t really have the room for another, my love,” he said to her as she placed the newborn in the cradle. “Besides the fact that I’m already outnumbered four to one.”

Isabella smiled down at their latest daughter, who they’d named Elizabetta after Isabella’s third middle name. “We can always expand the house,” she replied, “and there’s no reason to think the next one would be a girl.”

She always said that. And yet, it always ended up being a girl.

By the fifth daughter, Galavant had given up trying to stop his wife of her dream of having seven children. Really, he couldn’t complain: his wife loved him, he loved his wife, they loved their girls (Gal’s Gals, as King Richard nicknamed them early on), and they lived a splendid life by the sea as they’d vowed to each other all those years ago.

The morning Isabella gave birth to their sixth girl—Galavant would’ve collapsed in shock if it’d been a boy at this point—he came upstairs to find his passel of daughters cooing over the infant. All of them had their mother’s dark hair and dark eyes, although their statures varied. Some of them would be as tall as their father, while some of them were destined to stand on tiptoe to reach anything more than five feet above them for their entire lives. 

“Mama, what will you name her?” Lucia asked. As the eldest, Lucia had developed a streak of bossiness with just the right amount of narcissism that her father could only be proud. She reminded him of himself at that age. 

“Your father gets to name this daughter,” Isabella replied. “As I got to name the last one.” Glancing up at her husband, Isabella lifted the newborn toward him. “Any ideas, Gal?” 

Galavant gazed at the baby in his arms, going over the names they’d already used: Lucia, Maria, Elizabetta, Katerina, Frederica…were there any girls’ names left or had they used them all? “Um, let me think about it.”

The baby scrunched up her nose and began to fuss. Galavant sighed.

Eventually, he landed on Olivia. By that time, Isabella had almost forgotten they still needed to name Daughter #6. So his epiphany didn’t earn him much more than a, “Oh good lord, we still haven’t named her, have we?” 

With six daughters, Galavant became adept at braiding hair—so much hair between the six of them, even Olivia somehow managed to have a tuft of it on her infant head—twisting and brushing until Galavant’s skills as a hairdresser could rival any professional’s. He could do regular braids, French braids, fishtail braids, inside-out braids, waterfall braids, rope braids, along with the usual ponytails, pigtails and even a simple bun or two. Each girl would sit on his lap and he’d have to press them down from time to time to stay still, but inevitably the hair would be done—and usually mussed by the end of the day.

Mending dolls’ heads became as common as sharpening his sword once had been. Sid enjoyed teasing him—he’d become a squire to his Gal’s Gals in his old married age—but Galavant didn’t really mind it. And anyway, he carved wooden swords and shields just as often for the girls as he sewed on dolls’ heads and arms. His girls would have choices, he and Isabella had vowed, and at any rate, strict gender roles were so passé.

One night, the air balmy and mild, Isabella had curled up next to Galavant and whispered, “I have a surprise for you for your birthday.”

Galavant raised an eyebrow. He could count on one hand how many times Isabella had surprised him for his birthday—one year it had been that she was pregnant, another year that she was pregnant again, and then the year after she’d gotten him a nice bottle of whiskey—and he half-wondered if she were pregnant again. 

“Didn’t you tell me that six girls was enough?” He said it with a tease in his voice, but at the same time, if they were to have #7, he should probably look into building another room… 

Isabella pinched him. “No, and don’t look so horrified,” she said with a sniff. “It’s nothing like that. Although it would serve you right if we had another daughter.” 

“What did I do to deserve being outnumbered eight to one?” Galavant tugged on one of Izzy’s braids. “Or is it still seven to one? I can’t even keep track anymore.”

“Seven to one, and if you aren’t surprised next week, I shall be very cross.” 

Galavant refrained from telling her that her revealing the existence of the surprise rather took the suspense out of it. Instead, he crawled his hand up her nightdress and felt her laugh into his neck.

The day of his birthday, Galavant still wondered if the surprise were the surprise that, in fact, Isabella was pregnant. She would do something like that. But perhaps she would surprise him. Maybe she’d surprise him with being surprised that he was surprised?

Galavant scratched his beard before feeling a small hand tug on his wrist. “Papa, Maria stabbed my doll and now it’s bleeding to death outside. Its guts are all over the place. You must come!” 

Gory little creatures, were Gal’s Gals.

After everyone went to bed, the party had ended, the guests had returned home, with the usual jokes about how Galavant and Isabella seemed incapable of using birth control (they could, they just didn’t feel like it, and why were they asking anyway?), Isabella led him upstairs to their bedroom.

Whirling toward him, Isabella could barely keep herself from smiling. “Oh, I’m so excited!” she breathed. “I want to see your face when you get your surprise.”

“If my surprise is our bedroom door, I assure you, I’m well-acquainted with it. And so are you, as a matter of fact, remember last night?” 

Isabella slapped him on the arm before reaching behind her, turning the knob. “On the count of three: one…”

“Izzy, is this really necessary?” 

“Two…”

“Because I have a feeling I already know—”

“Three…” Isabella pushed open the door, and instead of a new cradle, or rattle, or blanket, upon the floor sat a puppy. A very pretty little gray puppy who’d clearly been asleep but was now very excited to see people again. 

Galavant stared. And then looked at his wife. And then looked back at the puppy, who was wagging its tail so hard it was about to fall over. “You got me a dog.”

Clapping her hands, Isabella leaned down and began petting the absurdly small creature. “I knew how much you’d been wanting one. Are you surprised?” 

“I must admit I am. How did you keep it from barking and sending the girls into a frenzy?”

Isabella smiled. “Our house is already so loud anyway, do you think anyone would have heard a puppy barking up here?” 

“Good point.” Galavant let the puppy lick his hand before he picked up the squirming creature. His heart filled, and he fell in love with wife all over again. But he wasn’t going to say as much—he was, after all, a knight. He hadn't eschewed gender roles quite that far yet. “Thank you for the gift. I am truly surprised,” Galavant said instead. 

They played with the puppy until it collapsed on its bed, and Galavant could only hope it could hold its own against six little girls who adored animals and roughhousing.

As Galavant curled an arm around Isabella, he laughed suddenly. “I honestly thought my surprise was that you were pregnant again,” he said into her dark hair.

Isabella was silent for a moment, before she lifted herself up onto her arm, gazing down at him. She raised an eyebrow. And waited.

The wheels turned. Turned. Turned some more. And then, clicked. Bingo. “Wait, you’re not—”

Smiling, her eyes crinkled, Isabella took his hand and placed it against her belly. “Surprise—I’m pregnant.”

And she kissed him on the forehead as he simply marveled at his wife.

**Author's Note:**

> The lack of Galabella fic is a travesty. TRAVESTY. So here is my contribution.
> 
> (Did your teeth rot out of your head? I apologize.)
> 
> And S/O to Mia for coming up with Gal's Gals. The credit belongs entirely to her. :)


End file.
